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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227720">Teamwork</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashmirSweater/pseuds/CashmirSweater'>CashmirSweater</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Feelings Realization, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Rescue, Smooching, Torture, wlw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:49:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashmirSweater/pseuds/CashmirSweater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shamir gets captured out on a mission both she and Catherine have to face their feelings about each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Catherine/Shamir Nevrand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Diplomatic Mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was supposed to be a routine visit to the Kingdom to celebrate the annual Day of Saint Macuil. Of course it was also a diplomatic mission to ease some of the rumors of discontent within the ranks of the Western Church. Rhea had debated bringing several battalions of the Knights of Seiros as a show of force. She decided against it however, since one of the Western Church’s main grievances was against the undue power and control of Garreg Mach Monastery. In a show of good faith she had come with only a small group of retainers. She was no fool though and made sure to include two of her most powerful knights, Catherine and Shamir, to guard her personally. </p>
<p>------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, you were worried for nothing, it all went off without a hitch!” Catherine exclaimed triumphantly, her porridge spoon still halfway in her mouth so she could pump her fist in the air. It had been a grand mission—good feast, good ale, and of course a chance to spend quality time with Lady Rhea without any emergencies or battles to attend to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re still over half a day's ride from the Monastery. We’re not done yet.” sighed Shamir reluctantly pushing the tasteless mush around with her spoon. </p>
<p>“You know what you need? You need to learn how to lighten up, you know relax! You should—”</p>
<p>“It’s not my job to relax” Shamir interrupted</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was not the first time they had had this argument.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can be serious about your job without being a stick in the mud. Honestly, what’s even the point of living if you’re going to live like this—”</p>
<p>Shamir stood up and stalked away. Catherine realized she had hit on a nerve she hadn’t known was there.</p>
<p>“Wa..wait! I just meant you should try to have fun once in a while…” she trailed off.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had been riding for an hour on either side of the Archbishop’s open-air coach. </p>
<p>The silence was unbearable to Catherine. She wanted to apologize but Shamir hated what she deemed “unnecessary conversations” and Catherine didn’t want to dig herself into an even deeper hole. </p>
<p>She had just slumped down in her saddle, resigning herself to a long quiet ride, when suddenly their rear scout burst through the dense brush behind them in a panic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“M-Mercenaries!!” he gasped trying to catch his breath. “At least twelve, there’s like to be ev’n more. All armed to the teeth.”</p>
<p>“So…” came an even-toned voice with a barely concealed hint of disdain, “the Western Church finally makes their move.” said Lady Rhea as the party came to a halt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir dismounted abruptly. "You go," she said," rummaging through her saddlebag. "I'll stay."</p>
<p>“W-what? No. Of course we can fight them off together!” said Catherine struggling to process what Shamir was proposing. It was all happening so fast.</p>
<p>“No. Too easy for them to hit the Archbishop. We don’t know their numbers for sure either and we can’t afford to get surrounded in this dense forest. You go, protect Rhea and I’ll hold them up here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But what if you get captured? Or…” Catherine uttered, trying not to panic. What if Shamir was injured? Or killed? She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving things off with their last argument, not being able to apologize or being able to tell Shamir how much she...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If they catch Rhea they’ll likely kill her,” Shamir said matter of factly while tying off several knots in the rope she had gathered. </p>
<p>Catherine’s gaze shifted to Lady Rhea, she couldn’t let that happen either…</p>
<p>“But I thought we’re partners, we’re supposed to work together!” Catherine said, still hesitant.</p>
<p>“We <em> are </em> working together. I’ve got your back, you just focus on the path in front of you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Catherine.” Rhea said sternly, “we ride.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Trap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dense thicket that had allowed the brigand to catch up with them was now working in Shamir’s favor. Her trap set below, she nocked an arrow on the string of her short bow. She balanced carefully on the tree branch that kept her mostly hidden while still affording a clear view below. Shamir slowly inhaled through her nose and exhaled, letting the killing calm take her over. It was a solid plan. Her instincts were sharp and ready for whatever came her way. </p>
<p>She could practically smell the stench coming off of the mercenaries before they appeared in view. </p>
<p>“What’dya think Count Rollo is gonna to do with the Archbishop once we bring ‘er to ‘im?" proclaimed a man with a large axe and missing teeth, walking side by side with another haggard looking man with a chipped sword. " I know what I’d like to do with her. Heh heh…”</p>
<p>Shamir would’ve rolled her eyes if she hadn’t needed every ounce of focus. “I guess I know which one to take out first,” she thought to herself. She pulled the string taut as they walked closer and closer to her snare. </p>
<p>Just a little closer. Closer. Closer. Just one stride away. Perfect. </p>
<p>Shamir losed a shot straight through the eye of the man with the axe. His companion was too stunned to notice the rope concealed along the ground. As his shin tripped it and pulled the strand tight, a massive tree branch whipped around and hit his skull with a sickening crunch and knocked the two mercenaries behind him clear off their feet. </p>
<p>Wasting no time, Shamir loosed three more deadly arrows at the three behind them standing slack jawed. She grabbed two more to take care of the men slowly beginning to stand back up. The swordsman who had been hit directly by the branch did not rise. </p>
<p>Well that’s at least half, Shamir thought to herself, pleased but still alert. She nimbly jumped to a nearby branch as the remaining mercenaries began trying to track where the arrows had come from. Of the five remaining there were three archers and two melee weapon users. Time to get in close before they could fire on her position. </p>
<p>She stowed her bow and quickly worked her way to a branch that would set her at their backs. With twelve-inch razor-sharp hunting daggers in each gloved hand, she jumped and landed on top of the brawler, efficiently slicing his throat and gutting the archer next to him as they were mid-fall. She rolled off him and advanced on the second archer, batting his bow aside with one dagger and ending his life with the other.</p>
<p>She felt a sting in her bicep. The final bowman had managed to get in a shot. Inconvenient but not critical; she pushed the pain aside. He was lining up his next shot as the final axeman began to charge at her. Not enough room to close the gap. In a split second she flung her right dagger straight into the heart of the archer while bringing her left up to block the axe swing with both hands. </p>
<p>Metal grinded against metal and pain shot through her left arm as her muscles struggled against the raw strength of her opponent. He roared at her, spittle flying out of his mouth. She pushed back against him, forcing him to lean in with all his weight. In a flash she dropped down to the side leaving him teetering off balance and swept his leg. As he landed with a thud she wasted no time getting in position to deliver the finishing blow. That arrow must have been tipped with something, her head was beginning to feel clouded. She could not afford a prolonged fight with this brute. </p>
<p>“Biiiiiiiitch....” he gasped as Shamir sliced the lifeline artery in his neck. Her head swam as she stood up, breathing heavily. </p>
<p>Dagger, the hunting dagger. She needed to retrieve the other one in case any more fighters showed up. And maybe the archer would be carrying an antidote for whatever was making the world spin.</p>
<p>As she turned towards the dead archer suddenly she heard a voice behind her sigh “I told Basco he should’ve waited for the rest of us…” </p>
<p>Shamir was blinded by an impossibly bright light. She heard a booming crack and then everything went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was all her fault. If Catherine hadn’t been so relaxed then none of this would’ve happened. They had managed to ride almost out of the forest and into view of Garreg Mach when a small group of the ruffians had caught up with them. Catherine and the knights had dispatched them with ease but Rhea had insisted on getting within the walls of the monastery before considering their next move. </p><p>Planning the next move, was that what they were doing in this stuffy meeting room sat around a map listening to bishops bicker? </p><p>It felt like there was a hand clenched around Catherine’s heart— clinging to it, hanging over a ledge. With every second they wasted it felt like the fingers were slipping, edging ever closer to being plunged into an endless depth. </p><p>She needed to breathe, to focus. Shamir had always said it was best to think through every step in a battle plan, work through all of the logical possibilities, visualize every step you needed to take until it was second nature, and then calmly execute. Catherine’s mind did not work like that. She relied on instinct and it had always served her well— until now of course. Right now her instinct was to flip the table in front of her, grab Thunderbrand and a horse and not stop riding or fighting until she found Shamir. </p><p>According to their scout, the warriors who had caught up with them were not the same ones he had seen earlier. Which meant... well she didn’t actually know what that meant. Had Shamir been overrun by these reinforcements? Were they a different group coming from a different path that had avoided Shamir all together? Not knowing was setting her even further on edge.</p><p>“...Scouts found the remnants of a battle consistent with Shamir’s fighting style.” Catherine tuned back into the conversation at the sound of Rhea’s calm voice. </p><p>“Given there are no signs of her body at the site it is reasonable to assume she has been taken captive. We must carefully consider our next action…” </p><p>“What’s there to consider?!” Catherine slammed her fist on the table “Shamir has been taken and we need to get her back! How can you all sit here so calmly when she sacrificed herself in exchange for our safety!?” </p><p>“Catherine,” Rhea sighed. “I understand you are anxious to rescue Shamir given the… relationship between you two. I too am anxious to see her safely returned to the monastery. In order to do that however we must calmly prepare and not rush foolishly into an unknown situation. Would you not agree that getting yourself recklessly injured or killed will do nothing to aid her?” She raised an eyebrow in warning.</p><p>Catherine ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Of course, you’re right Lady Rhea. I apologize for my outburst, please continue.” </p><p>As she sat back down and pinched the bridge of her nose she caught Alois looking at her with a pitying glance.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Calculations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She must be in the back of some sort of cart. Every single cursed bump and ditch the rickety wheels rolled over sent a jolt of pain through her body. Barely conscious, she kept her eyes closed to avoid tipping off her captors that she was awake. Taking stock, she felt like one giant bruise. Whatever spell had hit her had hit hard. From her labored breathing she guessed she had several bruised, if not broken ribs. She felt the cold of metal shackles around her wrists and ankles. Even if she could pick them Shamir wasn’t convinced she was in any shape to make an escape. </p><p>Calming her breath she pushed down any fear, panic, or any other useless emotions. She needed to think. Count Rollo… the name sounded vaguely familiar but Shamir had never bothered to learn the name of every self important noble in Fodlan. The Western Church… Rhea had seemed to know who was behind this attack. As much as she hated not being able to handle this herself, she reluctantly decided her best bet was to trust that the Knights of Seiros would know where to begin searching... and to hope that whoever this group was considered her valuable enough as a prisoner to keep her alive. </p><p>She carefully cracked open a single eyelid to get a better idea of her surroundings. She was in the back of an empty hay cart. It was surrounded by mercenaries but no one seemed to be paying particular attention to her. Good. With her hands bound she slowly and carefully pulled off one of her gloves. When she was certain no one was looking, she nudged it over the edge of the cart through one of the open slats. Wouldn’t hurt to give the tracking dogs a little something extra to go off of. </p><p>She closed her eyelid once again, carefully listening to the talk of those around her and steeling herself for what was to come.</p><p> </p><p>————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-</p><p> </p><p>In truth Rhea was concerned, she was very concerned about Shamir. But not for the same reasons Catherine was. </p><p>Some would think that the two were a strange pair— Catherine the devout believer and Shamir the mercenary with no affection or affiliation with the religion. But after hundreds of years of running the Church of Seiros, Rhea had concluded that these two types were the key to maintaining an iron grip of control over the region. They were a pair of extremely sharp double edged swords. </p><p>Knights like Catherine— brave, bold, powerful, and blindly devout were important to outward shows of force, but such true believers usually came with a strict adherence to a “just” moral code. Harder to find were agents like Shamir who could carry out the… less savory missions. It had been exceedingly difficult for Rhea to find humans who could handle the necessary dirty work while remaining discrete and not being so villainous or greedy that they became a threat. In that sense the Dagdan had been perfect. No qualms or moral objections, she did what she was paid to do; nothing more and nothing less. However that made the current situation even more perilous to Rhea. </p><p>If Catherine had been taken she would’ve rather died than given up information. But Shamir, Shamir knows too many of the dark deeds of the church and her lack of religious zealotry meant that Rhea couldn’t be certain Shamir wouldn’t tell them all she knew. </p><p>The irony that this was the type of situation where she would normally have sent Shamir to quietly eliminate a captive that Rhea deemed too risky to rescue and too risky to be allowed to live was not lost on her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whoever these people were they certainly knew to make a solid set of irons, Shamir thought. Her arms were strung up apart from each other like a macabre scarecrow to prevent her from reaching the locking mechanism or anything else that might aid her escape. Her knees already ached from kneeling on the cold hard dungeon flagstones. Heavier chains around her ankles were pulled taut— she was well and truly stuck in this piss hole. </p><p>She took a deep breath and began to calculate. She was a valuable hostage— not one that Rhea would be willing to negotiate for, but one that Rhea couldn’t afford to leave alone. After years of doing the woman’s dirty work, work that not even ranking members like Seteth knew of, she simply knew too much. Whether with an assassin or an army, Rhea would come for her. </p><p>She needed to play for time, whoever these people were they seemed hell bent on bringing down the Central Church. Shamir knew she needed to walk a fine line giving them enough information to consider her a valuable source but not so much they felt like they could safely dispose of her. By Shamir’s calculations her life debt to Rhea had been repaid and she had no real loyalty to the faith of Seiros itself— she could make this work. </p><p>Eventually a middle aged man in bishop’s robes entered with a nasty looking brute on his heels. </p><p>He looked her up and down “you must be the Dagdan heretic that does the dirty work for Lady Rhea. She may style herself as the archbishop, but those of us within the Western Church know her to be a false prophet. We will rise up and save the faithful in righteous revolt! ” </p><p>Apparently listening to this man blather about church politics was going to be the real torture. Shamir resisted the urge to sigh, having no patience for this nonsense. </p><p>“...and you,” the bishop’s eyes narrowed on Shamir “are going to give us the evidence we need to prove it. My friend here will help you if you need some… ah, motivation,” he threatened.</p><p>“Rhea had ordered me to…” Hmmm which nugget to divulge Shamir wondered. Rhea may put on a saintly and kind front but in truth she was vindictive and brutal. She didn’t understand how Catherine could naively worship someone whose true nature she knew nothing of.</p><p>Catherine. Oh. Oh shit. </p><p>After what had happened in the Dagdan war Shamir had sworn off all personal attachments. She was a fool— twice the fool for not realizing the depth of those feelings until now. What Shamir had witnessed, what she had done… Rhea and the Church meant everything to Catherine. She couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen to Catherine if she helped bring about the downfall of either. </p><p>“What a mess I’ve gotten myself into” she thought to herself as a small bitter laugh bubbled it’s way to the surface of her lips. </p><p>“Something funny??” demanded the old man</p><p>Her vision blurred. She heard more than she felt the sickening crunch of the cartilage in her nose and she tasted the tang of iron as blood began to fill her mouth. She was in so much trouble— all just when she’d found something to live for.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Determined</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Manuela. To me.” they were the first words Catherine had spoken the entire journey. Normally jovial and good natured, Catherine had ridden next to Manuela stone-faced and silent for two days. Manuela had found it incredibly unnerving.</p><p>She had suspected that there was more to her and Shamir’s relationship than the bickering they were often known for. On the battlefield they had been a sight to behold— covering each other while fighting through waves of enemies at all angles without needing to speak so much as a word. Catherine’s behavior since Shamir’s capture told Manuela that whatever their relationship was, regardless of whether either of them were willing to acknowledge it, ran deep. </p><p>Catherine was standing on the edge of the ridge overlooking the small fief that was the target of their attack. Her eyes narrowed and as her fingers gripped the hilt of Thunderbrand, the relic hummed to life with an orange glow; Manuela could’ve sworn that the air itself crackled around them. </p><p>“You can use warp?” Catherine asked, never taking her gaze off the fort below.</p><p>“Umm well, yes. But not very far yet. Oh and I have to be able to see where I’m sending something to…” Manuela was feeling very uneasy about this line of questioning.</p><p>“We ride with the vanguard. When the melee begins you will warp us up there” Catherine pointed out the top of the nearest battlement.</p><p>Now Manuela was definitely worried. “Just the two of us then? Even with my magic to cover—” </p><p>“Save your magic for healing.” Catherine interrupted “I won’t need cover.”</p><p>Catherine was normally a talker, a joker. This terse Catherine was something different entirely. </p><p>The noble unbeatable hero risking life and limb to mount a rescue— Manuela would’ve sighed over the wonderful operatic nature of it all if she weren’t so worried about getting killed in the process. She supposed the least she could do was to play a supporting role and do her best to prevent this all from meeting a tragic end. </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Manuela was still trying to get her post-warp footing in the time that Catherine had already swung Thunderbrand in a wide arc cutting down four enemies as if they were no more than stalks of wheat. </p><p>Two more charged at her and she swung her sword in an upward sweep, leaving a gash in the stone floor and flinging debris into their faces before swiftly ending them. </p><p>The last soldier remaining tried to fire off a shot but Catherine lazily batted the arrow away with a loud twang of glancing metal. She continued to stalk towards him as he fumbled with his quiver, back pressed up against the wall. In an instant she closed the gap thrusting the sword forward. The point lodged into the wall just to the left of his head so that the top most branch of the intricate weapon was pressed directly up against his throat. </p><p>“D-d-demon!” he quivered, appearing to be on the edge of passing out from sheer terror.</p><p>Catherine pushed the sword in deeper as a thin line of blood ran down his neck. “Why don’t you tell this ‘demon’ where the keys to the prison are kept?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Bound and Determined</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dim flames of the torches lazily flickered along the walls of the cell; the only sound the occasional patter of blood hitting the flagstones. Shamir didn’t know how long she had been slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.</p><p>Suddenly the door slammed open, startling her fully awake. “Ah just who I was waiting for, I’ve missed you.” Shamir managed to sneer at her captor despite feeling like she had been put through a meat grinder. </p><p>The bishop stalked across the room, panicked and enraged. “You’ll tell me what I want to know or I’ll gut you.” He seethed as he stabbed her with a concealed dagger, seemingly not understanding how ultimatums were supposed to work.</p><p>Pain shot through her right and abdomen, this was not the practiced hand of one versed in torture- he was nothing more than a panicked fool. A fool who would accidentally kill her if she wasn't careful. The Knights of Seiros must be here- she needed to stall.</p><p>He wrenched the dagger out of her torso and placed the tip over her already bruised and cracked ribs.</p><p>“R-rhea… She…” Shamir gasped for breath.</p><p>He pushed the dagger inwards, breaking the skin, on the verge of piercing her lung.</p><p>“Rhea ordered me to… to”</p><p>“Yes! Yes! Spit it out woman!” he screamed, his own spittle hitting Shamir's face. If he pressed the dagger in any further she wouldn't have to feign the struggle to breathe as a play for time. </p><p>“Rhea” Shamir weakly coughed out “s-she…”</p><p>Suddenly a blinding white aura filled the room and the bishop teetered back throwing his hands up to his eyes.</p><p>“Out of my sight!” Catherine yelled as she hurled Thunderbrand across the room like a javelin, skewering the pitiful man against the back wall with a definitive crunch. </p><p>“Heh” Shamir spat out the blood in her mouth “Leave it to you to lighten things up a little”</p><p>As soon as Catherine looked at Shamir the furious snarl on her face instantly melted away. She fell to her knees cradling Shamir’s head against her chest. Shamir leaned into the embrace, not caring if anyone noticed the damp spots she was leaving on Catherine’s shirt. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” Catherine struggled to maintain her composure.</p><p>“No it’s not. It’s the Western Church’s” Shamir said so matter of factly that Catherine pulled back, the shock on her face made it plain that she had never considered the possibility that the blame lay anywhere other than squarely on her shoulders. </p><p>Manuela interrupted as gently as she knew how as she put a hand on Catherine’s arm “why don’t you see if that fellow over there has the shackle keys on him and I’ll work on stopping all this bleeding.” </p><p>“Well,” Manuela looked from Shamir’s stab wounds over to the bishop speared against the wall, “it looks like he got a proper taste of his own medicine.” She placed her hands on Shamir’s abdomen “I need to set these ribs properly before we can move you. This... isn’t going to feel very good. Just hang in there, ok?”</p><p>The initial burning pain of her broken bones being rearranged nearly made Shamir blackout. It was a welcome relief though when she was finally able to take a full breath. “That should hold things for now” Manuela reached out her hand to take the shackle keys from Catherine. “You hold her upright and I’ll unlock the chains.” </p><p>Catherine looped her arms under Shamir’s to steady her as her arms slumped uselessly to the side once they were freed. Catherine’s arms felt safe, felt like home, and so Shamir let herself slip back into unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I just make a call back to their chapter 1 argument but with 100% more crying and aura spell puns? YOU BET I DID</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Early morning sun flooded the infirmary at Garreg Mach. Between infection, fever, and blood loss Shamir had been asleep for three full days. As she began to open her eyes she saw Catherine on a chair, her blonde hair disheveled with her head laid down to rest on the edge of the bed. Her calloused fingers were entwined with Shamir’s own.</p><p>Shamir gave Catherine's hand a gentle squeeze, “hey partner” her voice strained from disuse. </p><p>The tan hand instinctively squeezed back as Catherine’s eyes opened groggily and the situation began to dawn on her. </p><p>“I was so worried!” Catherine eyes-wide leapt forward and wrapped her arms around Shamir trying to hide the tears of relief forming at the corners of her eyes.</p><p>“Ah! Injuries! Right!” As Catherine came back up she saw Shamir's cheeks were a deep scarlet.</p><p>“Oh no! Your fever! It's back!” Catherine just about tripping over herself and falling out of her chair found the bucket of ice filled with wash cloths next to the bed. Panicking she fumbled the cloth and unceremoniously plopped it onto Shamir’s face. </p><p>“Catherine.” Came a muffled voice from underneath.</p><p>Realizing that she may have misread the situation Catherine winced and leaned in to gingerly peel back the cloth. Underneath she found Shamir's wry smile with an eyebrow cocked. </p><p>Shamir reached up an ungloved hand to tuck a lock of Catherine's golden hair behind her ear. “How did you ever survive without me?”</p><p>Finding her face to be the one blushing now, Catherine breathlessly said “let's hope we never have to find out again,” as Shamir's hand guided the back of her head into a slow, deep kiss.</p>
  </div></div>
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